


Stakeout

by Rose_of_Pollux



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Early Days, M/M, Pining illya, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 09:37:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11803368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: Takes place during the second year of the partnership. In which Illya yearns for some time alone with Napoleon–who is also eager for some time alone with Illya.





	Stakeout

It wasn’t that Illya minded waiting outside the large manor house as Napoleon mingled with the partygoers inside—after all, he despised parties, particularly formal parties such as ones like this. And he certainly wasn’t jealous of Napoleon getting the comfortable, inside-the-party position while Illya was restricted to hiding in the greenery on the grounds—again, for the same reason; Napoleon had even offered to switch places with him this time around, and Illya had politely declined, reminding Napoleon that he was much better suited for this sort of formal affair, anyway. Illya liked hiding—liked being on the outside, away from the stares and scrutiny of strangers.

…So then, why was he upset? He hadn’t been forgotten; he’d received communications from Napoleon and others checking in. It wasn’t the food, either; though Illya was hungry and admiring the buffet inside, Illya did have his own provisions with him—though he certainly wouldn’t turn down that buffet, either. But, even then, the food was not the source of his ire, either.

As Illya watched Napoleon, dressed immaculately in a tuxedo, walk across the room, Illya suddenly realized what his problem was.

He wanted to _be_ with Napoleon. Oh, not in this loud, fancy party, of course; he wanted Napoleon to be with him somewhere quiet—somewhere where they could enjoy each other’s company… Somewhere where they could get to know each other better. They had known each other for over a year now, and Illya found himself fascinated by how complex Napoleon was as a person—on the surface, Napoleon seemed so worldly, always eyeing the good life. But Illya had quickly found him to be a sensitive, caring person with the warmest of hearts—someone who, when Illya had blurted out that he loved him, had responded by suggesting that they try a relationship, for Napoleon had been searching for a soulmate, too, and had begun to suspect that it was Illya.

Illya wanted to be somewhere where he and Napoleon could get a chance to explore their feelings for each other more. And as he continued his surveillance, Illya caught himself imagining the ballroom empty of all people except himself and Napoleon, the two of them dancing across its extensive floor as the piano played by itself—as if by magic. He was sure that Napoleon would be a divine dancer—why wouldn’t he be? He was flawless in just about everything else…

Illya sighed, snapping himself out of his daydream. Was this his life now? These maudlin reveries were so unlike him, yet whenever it came to Napoleon, he couldn’t find a way to stop them.

Illya continued to watch the ballroom, trying to focus; thankfully, he wouldn’t have to be here all night—someone would be taking his place soon. He scanned the room constantly, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious, but also stopping his gaze on Napoleon every once in a while—to make sure that he wasn’t in any danger, and to take a moment or two to admire him. Illya blinked as he saw Napoleon talking to Mark Slate, who had just arrived to take Napoleon’s place. Illya sighed; Napoleon seemed to be enjoying the party and would probably stay a bit longer. Yes, there he was, getting food from the buffet table; he was going to be here for a while. Illya watched some more as Napoleon then covered the plate of food with a large napkin and suddenly left the room.

Illya was just starting to wonder where Napoleon had gone off to when, all of a sudden, his partner was approaching him.

“Hey,” Napoleon whispered, handing him the plate of food. “I thought you might be hungry.”

Illya stared at him for a moment before taking the plate of food and setting it down on the camera case that he had been carrying with him.

“Thank you,” he said. “I think I will save it for when I am hungrier.”

“You’re always hungry,” Napoleon pointed out.

“ _Da_ , I know…” Illya said. “Still…”

“Are you alright?” Napoleon asked. “I’ve never seen you turn down food before—not even to save it for later.”

“I am fine,” Illya promised. He was achingly aware of how he was in his black turtleneck while Napoleon stood before him, dressed to the nines. “You had best go back to the party before you are missed.”

But Napoleon knelt in the shrubbery beside him.

“Mark just arrived to relieve me, and I just told everyone I was calling it a night. I could wait here until your replacement arrives.”

“Napoleon, your tuxedo! The grass!”

“So I’ll ask Del Floria to clean it,” Napoleon said, waving a hand in dismissal. “Besides, two sets of eyes on the outside might be helpful when seeing the big picture…” He glanced through the window. “Wow, you really can see a lot from the outside.” He mused for a bit. “A new perspective is an interesting thing, you know?”

He looked back at Illya, grinning, and then blinked to see Illya staring at him.

“You are beautiful,” Illya whispered.

“…So are you,” Napoleon returned.

They were professionals; they waited until Illya’s replacement arrived before taking the food to the car with them, whereupon they kissed, bathed in the moonlight as it streamed through the car windows.

“Napoleon…” Illya whispered. “Thank you.”

Napoleon just smiled at him, the fond look in his eyes only getting stronger with every moment, at least it seemed that way to Illya.

“Thank you, too,” he whispered back.

“I did nothing,” Illya said. “You gave up the party to be with me.”

“The term ‘giving up’ implies that I missed out on something,” Napoleon said. “I don’t feel as though I’m missing anything right now.”

“But parties are the sort of thing that you enjoy…” Illya said. “You’re so at ease in all those formal occasions.”

“And I enjoy being with you,” Napoleon said. He kissed Illya again, gently touching the Russian’s cheek with his hand. “Those formal occasions can be fun, but so can a night with you. And I chose you.”

Illya shut his eyes, gratefully accepting more of Napoleon’s kisses and returning them, as well.

“You know, we have the weekend off,” Napoleon said, as he gently nuzzled Illya’s face with his own. “How about we take a drive upstate and see what adventures we can find all the way out there?”

It sounded almost too good to be true—a weekend away from the crowds and commotion, just the two of them.

“ _Da_ , Napoleon,” Illya said. “It sounds wonderful.”

“Oh, I know it will be,” Napoleon promised.

And they kissed again, eager for their weekend away.


End file.
